by Will Craig
In our defense, we create stories that allow us to rationalize why we’re not all we could be. Our justifiable weaknesses and limitations somehow point to why, if things were different, we’d be great. We spend so much time crafting our cover story that we neglect to see how it is keeping us small.
We spend a lifetime under the spell of illusion and delusion—tricking the mind and betraying our beliefs. Delusion is when we know something is false and choose to believe it’s true, anyway. Believing we are something we are not is delusional. The easiest person to fool is ourselves, especially when Shadow is performing the illusion. Trickster loves this part and participates as the magician’s assistant.
Standing at the threshold of the firewall protecting the unconscious mind is the three-headed guardian of Doubt, Uncertainty, and Fear. Standing directly behind Fear, mostly hidden and cowering, is Ego. Considering its fragility, Ego is remarkable in its overcompensating abilities to prove what is untrue to perpetuate the status quo.
Analogous to the man behind the curtain pulling the levers, toggling the switches, and bellowing into the microphone—it’s all smoke and mirrors. The enemy is not the giant wizard head projected amidst the fire and steam, but the fragile ego behind the controls pushing our buttons.
Wounded as a child, Ego has found a safe place from which to control our destiny. Standing on the shoulders of Fear, deep in the labyrinth of the unconscious, Ego keeps us from being who we really are, living in our essence, living from the heart. To do so would be its downfall and death.
The constant flow of negative messages is designed to keep us disoriented, discouraged, and distraught. With all of this in our face, we are more likely to be scrambling for self-preservation than mounting an attack on the status quo. This is precisely where Ego wants us.
The dark night of the soul is the death of the old you and the rebirth of the true you. What does that look like? According to Hollywood script consultant Michael Hauge: living in one’s essence. We’ll talk more about essence later, but right now we’re in the middle of an ordeal.
Even though the death is metaphorical, it is no less painful. What we give up, the identity we lose, the comforts we cut off, hurt like nothing we’ve ever experienced. It is intangible, but oh so real. This is also a time upon which we will look back and recognize the transformation as necessary to our spiritual awakening.
“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” ~Braveheart
Purging Emotions
The ordeal brings up a full basket of emotions (e.g., love, hate, joy, happiness, anger). These emotions interweave through a complex nervous system triggered by numerous and varied actions and reactions. As we carry this heavy basket along our chosen path, we take solace in the experiences of others: the more dramatic, the better. We know these as stories.
Films, especially, have a way of sneaking up and touching your heart—or pouncing on your soul without warning. It’s a Wonderful Life, Good Will Hunting, and The Notebook exemplify masterful movie-making with maximum tug on the heart strings and an occasional visceral assault on the soul.
Some will inspire you; others may make you mad or frustrated. At times you’ll be laughing uncontrollably; at other times you’ll be crying your eyes out. Rarely can you leave a well-made film without the emotional experiences staying with you long after you leave the theater.
In Saving Private Ryan, three brothers lie dead on the battlefield, with a fourth deep in German-held territory, as Allied forces storm Omaha Beach on D-Day. Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) and his seven men are given orders to go behind enemy lines to locate Private James Ryan (Matt Damon), the sole surviving brother. General George Marshall states in a letter to the mother of the four boys, “Nothing, not even the safe return of a beloved son, can compensate you, or the thousands of other American families, who have suffered great loss in this tragic war.”
Saving Private Ryan portrays the moral dilemma of risking the lives of an entire patrol of men to save the life of one low-ranking soldier. It is about the price paid to do the morally heroic thing by finding Private Ryan and safely returning him back home.
Captain Miller: James Francis Ryan of Iowa?
Private Ryan: Yes, sir. Paton, Iowa, that's correct. What’s this about?
Captain Miller: Your brothers were killed in combat.
Private Ryan: Which . . . which ones?
Captain Miller: All of them.
When Private Ryan learns he can go back home he refuses.
Private Ryan: Hell, these guys deserve to go home as much as I do. They’ve fought just as hard.
Captain Miller: Is that what I’m supposed to tell your mother when she gets another folded American flag?
Private Ryan: You can tell her that when you found me, I was with the only brothers I had left. And that there was no way I was deserting them. I think she’d understand that.
There’s something about being swept up and away by a film that is thrilling yet humbling at the same time. What we want from a good story is drama, excitement, and emotion. What we get from a great story is catharsis.
A Greek word meaning “cleansing” or “purging,” catharsis is a term used in dramatic art to describe an emotional cleansing depicted in good entertainment or great art. In motion pictures, the phenomenon occurs when one or more of the characters is also part of the audience’s experience. We feel what the character feels. Author and literary critic F. L. Lucas takes the definition a step further: “It is the human soul that is purged of its excessive passions.”
Catharsis enables the release of pent-up emotions and tensions. Catharsis is any extreme change in emotion that results in relief, renewal, and restoration. Crying is a form of catharsis.
Aristotle was the first to use the term in his work Poetics, in response to Plato’s claim that poetry encourages people to become hysterical and uncontrolled. Aristotle’s position was that literature provided an emotional release linked to a need to uncover unconscious conflicts.
Since the time of the Greeks and Romans, catharsis has taken on many forms and formats. Braveheart, Field of Dreams, and The Shawshank Redemption all provide a catharsis in different ways. And isn’t that why we keep going back to the movies, in hopes of experiencing a transforming, spirit-freeing release of emotion? At the beginning of a good story, we hope the main characters will change. At the end of a great story, we realize we are the ones who have changed.
“There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul,” noted Carl Jung. “One does not become enlightened by making imaginary figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
Like the manipulating of our emotions (which we love so much) in our films, our souls need a cathartic experience just as much, if not more. Hence, the reason for the ordeal.
Maybe this is why we encourage Hollywood to synthesize and administer the emotional drug of catharsis into our movie-going experience. If we could allow our dark souls to cry—even for just a minute—what relief that would bring to our being. The purging of emotions illuminates our new direction down a path of enlightenment.
Exploring Your Role
The ordeal is a rite of passage—the greatest trial you face on your journey—complete with tricksters, egomaniacs, and the deeply embedded beliefs of the shadow. It is here you must stand true to the height of your character.
Shadow beliefs are those which hinder you from being your best. You hold them deep inside, yet they remain outside our conscious awareness. Shining a light on those beliefs softens the shadows. The brighter your light, the less shadow there is, until the shadow belief can no longer exist.
In mythology, the ordeal signifies the death of the ego. The hero places the larger collective above self-interest. Death is the self-surrender and transition from an ego sense of self to connectedness of all things. If this sounds like a movie, it is. The Hero’s Journey is the template. Specifically, the hero’s inner journey t
oward a life well lived.
Done right, life is an ordeal.
Heroes are only as strong as their mightiest adversary.
Enemies lure us to the dark side. Our hidden weapon is our inner light.
It can be easy—almost reassuring in a strange way—to commiserate with others on how exhausting life is and why we’re not getting ahead. It’s a bit tougher, yet far more rewarding, to push forward in the direction of our dreams, even if it’s only a step or two.
Those who believe the good life should be easy and carefree are going to be the unhappiest and probably already are. The never-ending challenges and struggles . . . the countless obstacles and conflicts . . . meeting the needs and desires of fortunate loved ones . . . desiring to meet the not-so-fortunate ones who just need love.
A certain amount of friction is necessary in our lives to provide enough heat to mold our minds and cast our mettle to shape the legend we become.
When we finally experience those moments of adrenaline pumping through our veins and the euphoria of life buzzing through our bodies, know that it comes in direct proportion to the challenges we meet, the obstacles we overcome, and the number of people we help along the way.
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” ~ Plato
Self-Discovery
What two or three traits do you identify with most that serve as the building blocks of your identity?
If you were to rid yourself of a flaw, what would need to be sacrificed, given back, or released?
What was happening for you in the last movie you saw where you experienced a catharsis?
When your back is against the wall, is it your ego that’s pulling your levers and pushing your buttons?
CHAPTER 11
Transformation
Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again. ~ Buddha
I n the Matrix trilogy, Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) tutors Neo (Keanu Reeves) in the ways of what he calls the “real world.” Morpheus wants to help shape Neo’s destiny by revealing the dream, the Matrix.
In Greek mythology, Morpheus is the messenger of the gods who appears in the dreams of kings. He fashions and molds, shapes and forms the dreams of those who need to change. The modern-day word morphing refers to the smooth transformation of one image into another.
In this allegory, the Matrix is the ordinary world that is completely controlled by hidden forces. “It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth,” states Morpheus, “a prison for the mind.”
At the beginning of his journey, Neo is asleep. He soon gains awareness and becomes motivated to take action by seeking the truth. In true mentor form, Morpheus tells his charge, “Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.”
As we’ve seen time and again, a good mentor is just not going to give the answers we seek. At best, we receive a choice: the blue pill, or the red pill, for instance. Take the blue pill: Continue living in the dream and believe whatever you want. Take the red pill: Learn the truth and live in the reality that comes with it.
Our hero opts for change—pushing forward, engaging the shadow, and going where the truth leads. Neo takes a leap of faith and swallows the red pill.
With much training, guidance, and a really cool, long black jacket, Neo begins to understand the Matrix in the darkness of the special world.
During Neo’s ordeal, he is shot dead. Trinity, an ally representing sacred feminine energy, watches and is horrified. Neo is dead in the world of illusion.
Neo’s rebirth comes in the form of a twist on the Disney princess tales. In an act of love and compassion, Trinity kisses Neo and he reawakens at a new level of consciousness. Enlightened in the ways of the real world, his transformation enables him to see the truth.
Destination – Resurrection and Renewal
We are arriving at the new and improved hero, reborn to a higher and better self. Accumulated learning sparks regeneration and a resurgence of our life force. By transcending the former self, the hero transforms from discontentment to self-actualization—from ignorance to enlightenment.
Fellow Traveler – Shapeshifter
The shapeshifter’s primary objective is to compel the hero to question strongly held beliefs and assumptions. While not attached to a particular outcome, the shapeshifter is adroit at deception and can be a formidable ally in your transformation.
By its very nature, the shapeshifter archetype is hard to understand and difficult to pin down. This character changes roles, moods, appearance, and personality at whim. The shapeshifter is distracting and often confusing, making it difficult for the hero to discern this character’s alliances and loyalties. This turbulence compels the hero to question strongly held beliefs and assumptions, which is the shapeshifter’s primary objective.
As with the other archetypes, any character can take on attributes of the shapeshifter when the need arises. Mentors frequently appear as shapeshifters. Merlin, King Arthur’s mentor, changes shape often to aid the cause. The hero can also become a shapeshifter to deceive an enemy or overcome an obstacle.
Personal Guide – Accountability
Your guide for transformation is also your accountability partner. Assuming personal responsibility for decisions made and actions taken seems basic and straightforward. It’s about admitting your mistakes, acknowledging your weaknesses, and owning your character.
In our finger-pointing society, it’s almost a point of gamesmanship to see who can get out of taking responsibility the quickest. “Fearlessness, honesty, and accountability,” states life strategist Robert Ohotto, “are seldom found in our culture of blame, litigation, and hypocrisy.”
But why would anyone want to give their power away? Taking responsibility means taking control. Those in control command the power.
Accountability is the glue that bonds commitment to results.
Sometimes we don’t follow through on our commitments because we have an unconscious block. It’s not our fault—or so we’d like to think. Now that we are getting to know ourselves better and have taken a bumpy excursion through our inner landscape, we recognize that those “blocks” are self-made. Bringing unconscious blocks into the light of consciousness starts with awareness. This gets us halfway there. Once we realize we’re blocking, we recognize and identify the culprit. Pushing through the rest of the block requires changing our minds—both conscious and unconscious—to being accountable to our commitments.
One of the reasons coaching and mentoring are so effective is because they give us a built-in accountability partner. We say we’re going to do something and must be true to our word. Motivation improves, and commitment strengthens. We stay on track, move forward, and get more done in less time. Accountability is the glue that bonds commitment to results.
“In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt
Reshaping the Hero
The hero has been through the stages of awareness and change, and now enters the remaining stage of renewal, the final phase of the inner journey. We have traveled from the conscious mind to the unconscious mind and are on the way back.
The transition from change to renewal is transformational. It can only be initiated and achieved by the hero and—only then—from within. Realizing this comes through learning the truth, accepting the truth, and living the truth.
In the mythological sense, transformation is about resurrection and the final awakening. In a letter to the Romans, Saint Paul proposed, “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:1-2) Through the power inherent in the journey, the conscious and unconscious minds have remodeled our inner landscape.
Reshaping the hero begins with how we see ourselves from the inside out. Once we refresh the view, we can do our own shapeshifting. We already know how.
Whenever w
e start a new job or enter a new relationship, we get a fresh start on how others view us. We get to try on our renewed self with all the recently acquired ruffles and flourishes (knowledge and wisdom). When we return from a rejuvenating vacation or inspiring weekend retreat, we experience a mini-rebirth of renewed vitality. We feel like a new person.
Pushing the reset button all seems worth it now that we’re past the ordeal. An unexpected but beneficial byproduct is that both male and female energies are intertwined and expressed through our revised character. Somehow we feel more balanced and robust. Carl Jung dubbed these energies animus and anima.
The animus is the male element in the female unconscious, the inner masculine of a woman. The anima is the female counterpart in the male unconscious, the inner feminine of a man. Both qualities are necessary for survival and inner balance. Long repressed by society, the Shapeshifter challenges the hero to develop a stronger balance between the internal male and female energies.
Native American shamans are very familiar with the Shapeshifter archetype. The most powerful Navajo deity, Estsanatlehi, “Woman Who Changes,” is a fertility goddess known for transformation and immortality. Referred to as the “self-renewing one,” Estsanatlehi alters her appearance and changes shapes.
Her favorite transition is her version of bathing in the Fountain of Youth. Whenever she starts to age, Estsanatlehi walks toward the rising sun until she meets her younger self. She then morphs into the newer, blossoming rendition of the Woman Who Changes. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Unfortunately, such an advanced level of shapeshifting is beyond the scope of this book.
Medieval Chemistry
